Quotes About Orchard

Look, Samuel, I mean to make a garden of my land. Remember my name is Adam. So far I've had no Eden, let alone been driven out." "It's the best reason I ever heard for making a garden," Samuel exclaimed. He chuckled. "Where will the orchard be?" Adam said, "I won't plant apples. That would be looking for accidents.

And, Heriot's hand on Cayley's shoulder, they set off through the moonlight midnight orchard, moving deeper and deeper into their overlapping fairy tales, vigilant and wary, for there were no safe places for the Magician and the Warrior.

His father had never planted an orchard. No growing thing was graceless, but that scowling, snarling man, Hiram Linden, had seemed purposely to avoid all crops that flowered in beauty. All were utilitarian, sown with surliness and harvested with oaths. Ase was the first Linden of three generations to consider the earth and its bounty with reverence and affection, to long to adorn it as best he might during his tenure.

There is much I do not understand about the way humans think of punishment and forgiveness, and what happens to sinners when they die. I wish Jessamine was here to explain it to me, for the plants do not speak of heaven and hell. They speak only of the turning of the seasons and of starting anew each spring. Never despair, they counsel, for the orchard that is barren one season may bear fruit in plenty in the next.

Cassawoof apples, Lumawoo apples,

It was August and the fields were high with corn. In the orchard the last of the peaches clung to their branches and the apples were showing their first pinkish blush. The vegetable garden overflowed with produce: peppers, green beans, zucchini, tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash.

I'd never forget the smell of the orchard. It was imprinted on me like the scent of my mother's Aliage perfume. Overly sweet, musty, blossomy, leaves-turning, fruit-ripening.

Their expressions were like those caught by Renoir in the faces of The Daughters of Paul Durand-Reul, relaxed, proper, satisfied, slightly ingenue, the background filled with spring color. It was unreal, a garden party far removed from the Revolution that surged beyond the orchard walls. Here, aristocrats dined among white-gloved servants, as in a painting, while songbirds sang in the trees.

The last rays of the setting sun were filtering through the orchard, weaving strange, shadowy patterns on the dusty ochre earth ... Here was one small reminder, if one were needed, that we were a long way from those frosty Scottish autumns that I knew so well. This was, indeed, the island of winter spring.

Your branches are an orchard of pomegranates with the choicest of fruits, with henna and nard,

Joy and gladness are removed from the orchard; no one sings or shouts in the vineyards. No one tramples the grapes in the winepresses; I have put an end to the cheering.

until the Spirit is poured out upon us from on high. Then the desert will be an orchard, and the orchard will seem like a forest.

Joy and gladness are removed from the orchard and from the fields of Moab. I have stopped the flow of wine from the presses; no one treads them with shouts of joy; their shouts are not for joy.